


abc

by ThisJoyAndI



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M, Post 3x13
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-09
Updated: 2014-01-09
Packaged: 2018-01-08 02:57:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1127546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThisJoyAndI/pseuds/ThisJoyAndI
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(easy as one, two, three)<br/>Post 3x13. Lydia agrees to teach Stiles how to read. 'Stiles is one of the most intelligent people I know (and shouldn’t that be a compliment, considering she’s scored a-pluses in every class for as long as she can remember), and there is no way his little jaunt into the afterlife could have stripped him of his ability to read.'</p>
            </blockquote>





	abc

“Stiles can’t remember how to read?” she repeats, furrowing her forehead in confusion. “How can that even happen?” Arms crossed, she looks at first Allison and then Scott, the trio gathered in an abandoned classroom. Scott grabbed her as she was walking down the hall, textbooks piled high in her arms, and in her moment of panic and shock (was she being taken again?) she had almost wacked Scott right in his frustratingly uneven jaw with her Chemistry textbook. 

Scott nods in answer to her first question, placing his open palms down on the desk behind him. Allison arches an eyebrow at her, as if to implore her to listen, and she huffs in acceptance, ridding herself of her heavy bag in order to make herself more comfortable for what she’s sure will be the longest talk of her life – her mother’s attempt to clue her in on sex could have already claimed that title, if she hadn’t interrupted five minutes into the talk and told her mother she knew everything there was to know already, courtesy of magazines, the internet and good old fashioned library research. Nodding at Scott to continue, she takes a seat to rest her high-heel clad feet, Allison following suit. 

Scott takes too long for her liking, seemingly mulling over what he means to say – not a particularly good quality for an alpha.

She interrupts him (well, not really because he has not even begun, much to her displeasure), blurting out, “You know how ridiculous this sounds, don’t you? Stiles is one of the most intelligent people I know (and shouldn’t that be a compliment, considering she’s scored a-pluses in every class for as long as she can remember), and there is no way his little jaunt into the afterlife could have stripped him of his ability to read. Scott, don’t you remember the time he beat me to be nominated for that reading competition in elementary school? He probably would have won the entire thing too, if he hadn’t had to pull out because the next week…” She breaks off, shaking her head and decisively stating, “It’s not possible.” 

And should she, as overall genius of their little group and a lifetime worshipper of mathematics, know what is possible and what isn’t? 

But still Alison and Scott continue to shake their heads at her, and she starts to wonder if maybe it is possible – if everything else has been, why shouldn’t this?

“Well?” she questions them, crossing her arms over her chest in an attempt to steady her heart rate – if Stiles, the most intelligent person she knows, cannot remember how to read, couldn’t it as easily happen to her? 

Who would Lydia Martin be without her intelligence? 

She’s pretended to be dumb, sure, in order to win favour and maintain her rank as the most popular girl at Beacon Hills High…but even during that time she would still go home at night, tie her hair up in a bun and recite archaic Latin and solve mathematical equations. Her textbooks were hidden at the back of her closest, the hanging line of frilly dresses and skimpy clothes protecting her secret…but they were still there, and she could open them whenever she so desired. 

Lydia Martin without her intellect would not be Lydia Martin at all, and she is certain Stiles feels the same way about his now-missing ability to read. 

Scott inhales sharply, closing his eyes for a moment before murmuring, “We need your help.” 

She arches a perfectly plucked eyebrow at the statement, pursuing her lips before Allison begins to speak. “We need you to tutor Stiles.”

In that moment she is utterly annoyed by the fact that they think they can depend on her to solve this problem. Sure, she wouldn’t mind tutoring Stiles, or anyone of them for that matter, in any subject of their choice, but this isn’t tutoring…this is teaching him to read, all over again. 

She’s not a teacher, for god’s sake. She has her own problems to deal with – she has assignments and tests and homework. And she still barely manages to claim six hours of sleep a night, what with waking up in a cold sweat and thinking that either Ms. Blake or Peter Hale are in her room and there is absolutely nothing she can do to prevent them from taking her. 

No matter the affection she may now surprisingly feel for Stiles, she doesn’t have time for all of these problems. 

The old Lydia Martin would had scoffed, risen to her feet and turned on her heel, dismissing the problem with a flip of her hair. 

But the new and slightly emotionally damaged Lydia Martin merely sighs, nods her head and asks (much to the delight of both Allison and Scott), “When?” 

\--

Stiles, of course, is more than hesitant when she knocks on his bedroom door with a stack of borrowed ‘First Reader’ books. He looks back at his rumpled bed, then at her, and she arches an eyebrow in questioning before pushing past him and dumping the stack of books on his already crowded desk. He closes the door slowly, before turning around and stammering, “Why are you here Lydia?” 

She seats herself wearily down on his rumpled bed, her hair tucked behind her ears, wondering just how she should proceed. Looking around his room, she notes a series of notes tacked to the wall beside his bed – bits of research and theories pertaining to any supernatural event that has occurred in Beacon Hills since Scott was turned. She still somewhat annoyed about not being clued in about it all soon, but she knows now, and that's what matters. 

She tears her gaze away from the cluster of writing, promising to later study them and try to unravel what exactly Stiles is thinking in order to better assist him, and looks back up at Stiles. He rests against his desk, hands clasped in from of him and stares back at her. 

Pointing over her shoulder sharply at the notes pinned to his wall, she questions, “Read them out loud.” He looks at her confusedly, spluttering a rapid no. She asks once more, then again, continues asking until Stiles squints his eyes in a way she finds oddly appealing and began to read, fumbling over the words. This continues until he expels sharply, slams his hands against his denim-covered knees and shakes his head. 

“I can’t,” he mumbles, staring down at the floor. His whole body shudders, and he looks quickly at her. “I can’t read Lydia, and I don’t have any clue how I’m going to fix it! Isn’t that funny?” he laughs out, shaking his head. “How am I supposed to ace my exams and get accepted into college, when I can’t even read my own name? And it isn't as simple as me not being able to read. I've done my research (this surprisingly fills her with pride for Jackson would never research anything, and god knows Aiden isn't the brightest), and I have some obscure form of aphasia. Aside from getting therapy or admitting myself into a specialised rehabilitation program, there's nothing I can do to fix it. Deaton said there would be consequences for our sacrifice...but I never thought they would be so drastic.”

Aphasia. Stiles can read...he just cannot comprehend the written language as proficiently as he was able to before he chose to sacrifice himself. 

Inhaling deeply, she comes to the conclusion that this situation is not as bad as she initially thought. It isn't a matter of teaching Stiles to read all over again, but simply a matter of finding a solution to the problem he faces trying to comprehend the written language. If he's been able to research it, and find possible solutions...then surely she will be able to put those solutions into practice. 

She stands up, walks the tiny distance over to him, and grasps his hands within hers, rubbing soothing circles over and over with her thumbs. “I’m going to fix it,” she promises him. 

Stiles looks at her, and she frees one of her hands in order to hold a ‘First Reader’ (now apparent useless) book in front of his face, waving the bright cover back and forth. “We’ll start slowly. There’s plenty of time, I'll do some research and I’ll have a solution for this issue in mere days. I expect great things from you Stilinski,” she tells him, adding, “But I expect greater things from myself, of course.” Noting his anxiety, she places the book back down on the stack, and moves her hand onto his warm cheek, fingers instinctively rubbing softly over his cheekbone. 

“Trust me,” she orders, adding, “I’m Lydia Martin after all.” 

Stiles rolls his eyes at her declaration…and as much to his surprise at it is to hers, leans forward and places a soft kiss on her cheek. He pulls back sharply as the realisation of his actions hits him, his breath warm against her face and his eyes anxious. 

She arches an eyebrow, removes her hand from his cheek, and (in true Lydia Martin fashion) insists, “Let’s begin!”

**Author's Note:**

> I don't even know...  
> This is just whnt I want because hey why would they have Lydia say "What? I read" after focusing on Stiles' missing ability to read.


End file.
